I Still Don’t Like Barcelona… Barcelona, Spain

I know, crazy right? I don’t like Barcelona. I started the day by getting off the train at the really inappropriately situated Barcelona Sants station. Really, I needed to travel through to Barcelona de Franca, only a few minutes walk away from Barcelona Estacio Nord (where I needed to drop my bag). But the lady gave me the wrong ticket.

Of course, being a budget traveller (read: being tight) I walked and it took no less than THREE GOD DAMN HOURS. That was three hours less to do and see what I wanted before I caught my connectoin to Girona at 7.30PM. But it did save me sitting on a bus in the horrendous Barca traffic, crying miserably into the ends of my new, stupid haircut.
When I did eventually make it to Estacio Nord the staff seemed confused about the location of the lockers and it took another half an hour to find them. By now, hiking up a mountain to reach Park Guell was most undesirable. In fact, I thought the only thing that would make me feel better would be to get online and have a burger.
Indulging in fast food was a waste of time. I threw most of it away and was chucked off my table by rowdy, Spanish teenagers. However, not all was lost, as just a few metres from the restaurant was Casa Batlló! Something I really wanted to see!
Casa Batlló
I’d have gone inside if it weren’t for my limited time in town. I was determined to find things I liked about Barcelona and I wouldn’t if I was stuck inside playing with augmented reality. As much as that would be my first choice of things to do.
I moved on and found myself exploring Barri Gotic. This activity was the first thing that everyone told me to do while I was in Barcelona. I was worried that walking around tiny back alleys in Barcelona would get me pillaged but it was actually quite safe. And beautiful. And completely different to the Old Town in Tarragona. I surprised myself by not yet being bored of Spanish architecture… even after nearly three months of living there.
A stroll in the Gothic Quarter
I was feeling the effects of a lot of walking around in the sun. I spent half an hour drinking a Coca Cola in Parc de la Ciutadella, unfortunately sat amongst a lot of dog poo (I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there… SOMEWHERE). 
 
I visited things that I saw on my first trip to Barcelona and was both relieved and disappointed that I actually still hated Barcelona for the most part. Relieved because I hadn’t been unjustly hasty in my decision to shun the city after my first visit. Disappointed because I was amongst the small population of people in the world that had failed to understand Barcelona’s charm.
After this day, I chose to accept that Barcelona is not for me. I think it’s very much a case of being a small fish in a big pond. The sprawling nature of Barcelona is just completely overwhelming to me and in turn, I was frustrated by it.
I travelled on to Girona Airport and I spent the next 10 hours trying to sleep on the cold hard floor awaiting my early morning flight. Another hobo looking traveller laid down next to me… clearly to steal my perfect recharging spot, but in my head I pretended it was because I looked like a cool person and he wanted to be my friend. By the end of four hours of not talking I felt like I knew his soul.

My flight was uneventful. I slept through it all. Next thing I knew… I had made it to Malta. And it was sunrise. And it was amazing. And I felt ready to just get on with getting happy.
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